


Tired of being nice

by cillafix



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Desperation, Gen, I rewatched drrr recently and my takes got all reheated so I had to, Mind Games, Omorashi, Orihara Izaya Slander, This is a piss fic, Urination, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:22:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cillafix/pseuds/cillafix
Summary: Celty and Izaya have an argument that turns into a game of chicken that gets a little out of hand and everyone learns something.
Relationships: Orihara Izaya & Celty Sturluson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Tired of being nice

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably out of character as shit, but I have an excuse: it's a power fantasy. Thank you for understanding

<I'm about to do something that may not be ideal.>

Izaya simply laughs reading the sentence that Celty is showing him. "Sure, unlike what we've been doing for the last four hours, which is exactly what we had planned this evening?" Her posture remains unamused as she types another message to clarify.

<We won't be able to talk until after I finish this job. Have anything to say first? Need anything?>

"I won't lie, I could do with a comfort break, if you're offering," he says casually, kicking off from the guardrail he was leaning on and looking around.

<I can let you go whenever you want me to.>

"I'm sure you can," Izaya smirks. "That's alright, I can wait till we get to where we're going next. What's the job?"

<Do you get motion sickness?>

He narrows his eyes, shakes his head and shrugs. Before he can ask why, black swirls around his face and clamps over his mouth; Celty sees his eyes widen in alarm before she gives him a matching helmet, though the visor on this one is just for show and won't actually let any perceptible amount of light in. Plainly taken aback but trying to act unperturbed, he feels around for the motorcycle in front of him and dutifully gets on.

Celty is well aware that having an informant tied to her and trying to do a job where confidentiality is paramount do not mix. The measures she's taken to safeguard against him have gotten increasingly outlandish, but she does have a practically unlimited toolbox, not to mention he already seems to have eased back on threatening to sabotage her - maybe because he's realized this? He'll have to give up eventually. Hopefully she won't have to bring him home. She'd hate to think about the trouble he could get into there.

He doesn't even need to know she has business in this part of town, she'd figured as she thought about the next item on her agenda, thus the restraints applied before even departing. A few blocks from her destination, it occurs to her that her client would probably prefer to believe she's alone, too, and her vehicle grows a soundproof shell with just enough storage space for an inconvenient passenger. Seamless. She'll have to use this technique again.

Once they're back in familiar territory, Celty stops under a streetlight outside a park and vanishes Izaya's helmet and gag. He gasps and rubs his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

<Sorry about that! Are you okay?>

"You're really getting good at this," he pants, squinting at the message but not really able to focus on it. "What time is it? I'd check, but none of my electronics seem to work since you put this thing on me. Weird coincidence, hm?" Celty helps Izaya off the motorcycle and leads him over to a bench, conscious of the meter-long string of dark matter connecting their wrists.

<It's 21:48. I'm meeting another client in the square at 22:00.>

"Oof. No wonder. That's a long time to keep a guy tied up like this, Celty."

<I already told you when I'll let you go.>

"I'm not saying _let me go_ , but let me take a break?" He looks expectantly at Celty, who's determined not to respond to him. "I know it wouldn't be easy to get to a toilet like this, but a side street or those hedges over there would be fine. I would not be picky right now."

Celty is considering gagging Izaya again just because having to acknowledge him is distracting her from messaging the client.

"You let me buy those bottles of cola when we were at the mall. I don't think you'll mind if I put this in most neutral terms. What kind of policy on human functions are you running if you'll let me drink, but not urinate? Or is that your strategy?"

<I'm not treating this as a battle of strategy.>

"You weren't thinking ahead that far," Izaya sighs, sitting up straight on the bench and drumming his fingers on the wood. "It can't be easy keeping all that human stuff straight."

<I have a basic understanding. I'm not going to deprive you of anything that could hurt you.>

"Really? Because this started hurting a while ago."

In Celty's experience, Shinra is usually much more demonstrative when that function is bothering him, not hesitating to squirm from discomfort in front of her. On one occasion he even complained that he was going to burst, though after some panicked questioning, he admitted that he was being hyperbolic and he rationally knew that the organ in question would involuntarily release the pressure due to muscle fatigue before it was in any serious danger of rupturing. It sounded unpleasant, but not particularly dangerous.

Celty gets up and starts off toward the square, dragging Izaya to his feet as the lead goes taut. She'll watch him for signs of distress, but as of yet he looks merely annoyed. She'll have to stay on serious alert in case he doubles down on trying to make things difficult for her, but that's alright.

They stop next to a few vending machines by the wall. Celty scans the square - still a few minutes before the client is set to arrive. Izaya, slightly tucked into the corner between the vending machine and the wall, looks to be doing the same, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. That wouldn't be a bad position to keep him in.

He seems to try taking a step before realizing his feet are weighted to the ground. "What did you-" Noticing his hands glued to his pockets comes next. "Oh, _that's_ creative."

Black swirls around his face and silences him again. Celty whips up a black box the size and shape of the vending machines. There was a time when she would have been cautious about doing this in a square with people milling around, but experience has shown that it's astonishing what you can get away with doing in public without people questioning it. If anybody notices a black vending machine that wasn't there a few seconds ago, they'll tell themselves that it must have been there all along and they hadn't noticed it. She gives the box containing Izaya a look over, satisfied that he'll be okay until she finishes talking to the client, then turns her back and casually leans against it.

"There you are! It's been a while, hasn't it?" exclaims a flamboyant 40-something woman in a floral jacket and pink-tinted glasses enthusiastically trotting over to Celty.

<Good evening! It's good to see you looking well. What can I do for you tonight?>

"You look adorable as usual. You'll have to tell me some time how you keep that perfect figure of yours." The woman ignores the question and gestures to Celty's waist. "Oh, but you're young, aren't you? You probably don't have to do a thing."

<What makes you think that? I could be older than you, Sato-san.> _Just by a few hundred years_ , Celty thinks, but keeps it to herself.

"Now that I find hard to believe! And those darling cat ears always make you easy to spot. Micchan has been begging me to let her learn to drive a motorcycle. She just turned sixteen," the client says, rolling her eyes, "but if I could see her in a cute helmet like yours, I might just let her. Where in the world did you get it?"

<I'm sorry, Sato-san, it's actually custom!>

"And she would also have to promise to drive by her father's house as a surprise to give him a heart attack. Which reminds me of why I called you here tonight. They're going to finalize our divorce, and I just need a seal from him..." Sato digs in her purse, which is wider than she is, and pulls out a crisp folder. "Can I depend on you to get these documents signed by him tonight?"

<Of course. Do they need to be delivered somewhere urgently by midnight?>

"Oh, it's not that urgent. They're to be taken to the usual office at the address listed on the forms, but you can deliver them in the morning."

<I see. May I ask whether your ex-husband is usually awake at this time of night?>

"Eeeeeehhhhhh," Sato says with a hand-wave. "Actually, I would like to add a bonus greeting. Do you think you could do something like make all of his lights come on at once and flicker? How about making all the taps in his house run black?"

Celty sighs, looks down and types for a long minute, then apologetically shows her the message. <I draw the line at actually disrupting his utilities. That would be a crime, and as the disruption would likely be identifiable in electric and water consumption reports, it could invite criminal investigation for you.>

"Rats. Isn't there anything you can do that the police would never believe even if he called?"

Celty contemplates for a few seconds. <I could probably manage to fill his house with shadowy figures?>

"I love it! I don't know what I would do without you!" Sato dives into her purse again and produces a hefty envelope full of bills for Celty.

The woman stays and overshares at Celty for some minutes longer - the stories are always lurid and certainly don't foster any sympathy for Sato-san's ex-husband - before finally taking her leave. Celty takes a few extra seconds looking through the paperwork and filing it away somewhere in the void, looks both ways to make sure the client is gone, then turns around and knocks on the black box. The walls unfold and disappear into the pavement to reveal a slightly ruffled Izaya.

<Sorry, that client likes to talk,> she shows him as explanation.

"What were the hands and feet for?" he hisses as soon as she takes the gag off him, picking up his feet a few times to make sure they're no longer stuck to the ground.

She doesn't answer that - she hadn't wanted him tapping out a rescue message in code or making her client think she’d abducted someone. She doubts that kind of recklessness is his style, but she'd hate to give him any ideas.

"Seriously, you don't know how hard it is to stand still like this," he continues.

It takes her a few seconds to remember what he's talking about. Again, she thinks back to Shinra's behavior as reference, recalling times she's seen him pacing and bouncing in the elevator up to their apartment before bolting to the toilet with his coat and shoes still on. Celty thinks that Izaya's posture is slightly forward and his gait shorter than usual if she's paying attention, but his motions aren't agitated and desperate like that, yet. On the other hand, Izaya's no more transparent when it comes to pain than he is about anything else, and she doesn't know whether his tolerance is on the higher end of the scale, as far as humans go, or he can at least convincingly pretend it is. There might be no telling how he's feeling. She wonders if he feels like he's going to burst.

When they stop at the crosswalk to go back to the park to get Shooter, Celty decides to tell Izaya about the next job.

<How do you feel about going to Yokohama?>

"Yokohama?" He manages to limit his reaction to a dry laugh, but there's no question that he's conflicted.

Celty watches him for an answer as they cross the street.

"You could really be more selective with your clients," Izaya finally replies. "Who's making you drive all the way to Yokohama?"

<A client who gives me easy jobs and pays good money for them.>

"Ahhhhh, I see. Nice of you to pick that up after Shinra had that job fall through. I’m guessing this is my last chance to back out before we get back home?"

<You can ask me to release you any time you want,> she shows him. On the other side of the street, Celty's motorcycle-steed shows up at their side ready to take off in the appropriate direction. <But I want to warn you, I will not turn around or go out of the way for you. If I have to let you go before I reach the destination, I won't help you get home. I'm sorry.>

"Calm down, I don't blame you for keeping on top of your job all this time. I wouldn't have expected any less of you."

<So do you have any requests?>

"Nope. Yokohama it is," Izaya says. She hears the slightest sound when he gets on the motorcycle behind her, a sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth, but it's enough confirmation for her. Izaya is in pain! He's finally running out of endurance and this isn't going to go on forever!

Celty feels smoke puff out the bottom of her helmet when she catches herself getting excited about that. She can't actually torture a human into submission. Well, she's not exactly torturing him. He's bringing it upon himself by not cooperating, just like everyone who has lunged at her or broken and bruised themselves by struggling in her restraints. But those have all been people who intended to do harm, immediate harm that she had to stop. The harm that Izaya does is insidious and not something Celty can make a dent in by binding him with a simple word game for a day. She was angry when she did it to him, she wanted answers, but she hadn't been thinking about what she would do next if she didn't get them and she made a foolish threat. And now, like Izaya, she's trying to follow it through against an opponent who doesn't want to give up.

She could get to Yokohama faster if she weren't carrying a human around. Even at a faster highway speed than most of the earthly automobiles on the road, it’ll still take more than half an hour. It doesn't make her more confident that her passenger becomes tightly wound and fragile over the course of the drive, his limbs abruptly tensing into her every so often and his breathing shallow. If it were Shinra behind her, she would be stopping to fix whatever was wrong with him immediately. Why didn't Izaya take the out before they left for Yokohama?!

Why has he played with her for this long at all?

She thought she could bore him into quitting. He enjoys riling people up - people, not Celty - and she thought that would work to her advantage. She wouldn't get angry with him, would barely even respond to him. She's given him more than enough warning that nobody knows where he is, she can mute him and make him invisible if she wants to, and she'll leave him by the side of the road if he tries to inconvenience her. He must understand by now that under these conditions, he quite literally can't hurt her, but she can hurt him - she wouldn't, but she can.

By the time she pulls into the neat, well-lit neighborhood where her client's ex-husband lives, Celty is simply anxious on Izaya's behalf. Maybe once she finishes this job, he'll _finally_ forfeit. She hops off the bike, vanishes his shadow helmet, and takes his arm to help him off. This time, he groans like he's hurt, turns around and braces both hands on the seat.

<Can you walk?>

He glances over at her PDA for a second, then lowers his head. "Give me a second," he says with a pathetic, self-deprecating laugh.

Can humans get sick from not urinating when they need to? Surely they are supposed to “involuntarily release,” that is, wet themselves, before anything bad happens, like Shinra says, but most humans are not as nonchalant about their biology as Shinra is. Most of them are disgusted by bodily fluids and avoid situations like that at any cost, and whether they can avoid it to the extent that they would hurt themselves, or how long it would take, she’s not sure. She wishes she could text him and ask him. He would be curious about what she's doing, though, and that, she's not ready for. For now, she just needs to hurry and do the job and she can deal with Izaya afterward.

"That drive did it," he complains, straightens up, sort of, and shuffles after Celty. "I was starting to think I wouldn't make it towards the end."

<I'm just going to meet with the man who lives in this house, and then I'll be done,> Celty reassures Izaya as much as herself.

"And then you'll take this thing off me."

She grips her PDA to resist the urge to throw it. Trying to appear calm, she forces herself to type a concise, composed message.

<I will if you ask me to.>

"Just making sure you're paying attention."

Celty can't see how Izaya has any room to be talking back to her. What's going on inside his body is obviously impairing him and demanding significant effort, making him curl in on himself to guard the source of the discomfort. He's still not earnestly dancing or twisting around the sensation like some people do, but he sheds stress like radiation.

<You won't be able to see anything, so please stay directly behind my back,> Celty warns just outside the steps of the house. She hops over the gate easily, keeping one arm raised as she lands so the lead won’t stretch, but when she looks back at Izaya, he’s apprehensively trying to figure out how to approach it. So he’s not feeling as dexterous as usual. She scoops him up in a bubble and pulls him over the fence.

"Shit," he says abruptly under his breath as soon as she puts him on the pavement on the other side, turns his back to Celty and doubles over. She wrings her hands and looks down at the lead between them, weighing whether to call this off and dissolve it right there. "Alright, I'm good," he says as he turns back around, but his hands are in his coat pockets, one oddly pulled over his front, and he looks ashen.

<Are you sure? Did I pick you up or put you down too quickly?>

“Ah, something like that.”

<I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful on the way out.>

“You couldn’t help it.”

Celty turns around wordlessly and marches up the stairs, her frustration surely adding authenticity to her performance as she begins exuding heavy black fog. That’s what she was afraid of.

In her most intimidating posture, she beats several times on the door to the house. Several seconds of silence go by; the front steps and entryway are completely mired in darkness. She knocks again, this time more aggressively, just as she hears a commotion from inside and a light flips on in a window somewhere off to the side, followed by several more throughout the house.

"Celty?" Izaya says somewhere behind her, his voice rising and taking on a warning tone. Finding him in her periphery, she frantically silences him and glues his hands in his coat pockets, mortified that she forgot about that.

Just in time, the door cracks. The person inside tries to slam it again, but Celty shoots a rope of darkness in and jams it open.

"Oh, god help me, not you again," the man says.

She removes the folder from one of her void pockets, making the motion as slow and menacing as possible, and takes the papers out. Using another shadowy tendril, she slides them through the door.

"You... you want me to sign this? I'll be right back, don't kill me!"

The faintest rustle behind Celty makes her wonder what Izaya is doing. She's really in it now and can't afford to check on him. Maybe it would be better for him to tire and wet himself, but for him to do it right here... at least she's in another city where nobody has heard of her! Imagine a rumor that the Headless Rider peed on someone's doorstep like a stray cat? Oh, she hopes this doesn't follow her home somehow. What if this guy tells his ex-wife, her client? Will she ever get work again?

"Damn it, I should have known that woman was a demon," the man frets as he comes back with a pen and seal and wades through the pools of dark matter pouring into his house. He finishes filling out the document for Celty and sends her away, pleading with her not to come back.

Once she sees the lights in the house turning off again and is sure the man is headed back to bed, Celty whirls around and finds Izaya in the fog, his head hung in grim concentration before she taps him on the shoulder and he looks up bitterly at her. She clears a path back down the stairs and leads him back to the street the same way she got him in, not sure whether to be relieved that he seems to still be hanging in there and hasn't left a wet trail.

"Let's go," is the first thing out of his mouth when she takes off the black wrapping.

 _Let's go?_ Celty has to rush alongside Izaya to question him as he limps purposefully back to where Shooter is waiting for them.

<What do you mean?>

Izaya almost laughs, but it comes out more like an exasperated gasp. "Oh, I mean what I said."

<I'm finished here. I can untie you and I'll still give you a ride home.>

"Look, I considered it." Izaya stops and leans against someone's fence. He closes his eyes, focusing on speaking levelly. "I know you _don't know how this feels_ , but I _need_ to relieve myself, there's not anywhere to do it, and it's not a comfortable situation to be in."

He isn't wrong - Celty knows he said he would settle for a dark corner somewhere in the city, but this neighborhood is all new pavement and gated driveways with motion lights and she suddenly feels embarrassingly ignorant.

"So if you understand, can you get me home quickly?"

Knowing she's being given a willfully tall order, but too nervous to argue, she nods and leads him the rest of the way to the vehicle.

Izaya hesitates and mutters something to himself as if trying to convince himself to go through with something, as in a way, he is. He blows out a determined sigh before carefully taking a seat behind Celty, instantly shifting and tensing his thighs against her sides.

"Hands?" he asks - they're still stuck in his coat pockets.

<I won't let you fall,> Celty shows him hurriedly, blindfolds him within his shadow helmet again so he won't see the way out of the neighborhood, and takes off.

There's no way he can sit through another forty-minute drive like this - not when he complained he barely made it through the first one, and he's certainly not acting like he can - but if she can somehow get him home, she'll absolutely quit. This is a ridiculous contest that hardly had a point to begin with and it’s not worth making Izaya suffer. He can make his point if he wants to this badly, and as soon as she can get him to somewhere where she can drop him off and be rid of him, she'll let him.

But he doesn't make it that far...

They've been on the road for barely ten minutes and have just reached the motorway back to Tokyo when Celty feels Izaya curl into her and squeeze her sides with his thighs. Except this time, he doesn't manage to right himself after a few seconds, but continues to shake and spasm against her, finally rapidly tapping her thigh with his own several times in a blatant, urgent demand to stop.

Celty makes a split-second decision, speeds up, and swerves off to exit into an unknown suburb, scanning for anywhere she can pull over, because Izaya is fighting hard with his protesting body and he's about to go spiralling out of control and lose. Thankfully, there's a convenience store just off the exit ramp, so she darts across a couple of lanes to reach it and comes to a stop right in front of the brightly lit entrance.

"I can’t, let me go, let me go, let me go," he says breathlessly when she removes his helmet. This time, he's stiff and jittery when she pulls him off the bike, automatically crumpling once his feet are on the ground. With his spare hand pinned close to his side by the fabric of his coat as long as his other one is defensively below the waist, he leans awkwardly on the seat with his shoulder. "Can you at least let my hands go," he whines.

He's not asking her to take the lead off? Why won't he ask her to take the lead off? The convenience store is right there. He could take the lead off, run inside and go to the toilet in the convenience store. Easily.

"Look, I still can’t get my hands out of my pockets, whatever you did to them, can’t you undo it?! Why are you standing there?!"

Why is Izaya acting like this? Will he do something if she lets him go, or is he irrational from pain? Celty raises her hand. She’s made a terrible mistake, she should have ended this much sooner.

He ineffectually paws at his belt, unable to reach it with both hands at once or get a hold of anything through his coat. "Celty, PLEASE-"

_That afternoon, Celty had spotted Izaya chatting with some kids outside a park. He acknowledged her with a knowing eye-roll, made his excuses, and hopped over the fence just in time as she screeched to a halt, jumped off her bike and pursued him. When she made it out the other side of the hedges, he had a good lead, but she lassoed him with a rope of shadows and tightened it around one arm in no time._

_"Owowow, you don't have to break my wrist," he complained as she reeled him in and closed the distance between them. "We can talk about this, you know."_

_ <How long have you been in contact with Lin?> _

_"I love how someone impersonates Shinra and you immediately assume it's me."_

_ <He was going to smuggle Shinra back to his country to force him to perform the surgery there!> _

_"Damn, was he? Yikes. See, why would I do that on purpose? I don't like to cause international incidents. I prefer the action to be here where I can see it," Izaya said._

_Celty explained how there had been a headhunt for Shinra when he (the real one) realized what the client wanted from him and tried to pull out, though she managed to terrify the client's men into leaving empty-handed and she thought they were headed back to their country now. Izaya was unaffected. This seemed to be blowing over, and the case hadn't gone anywhere he couldn't follow, so everyone was happy and they could put it behind them as a silly mistake, right?_

_"Anyway, if we're done here, when are you going to take this thing off me?" He held up his wrist._

_ <I'll take it off when> _

_When... when what? Celty's fingers shook furiously as she tried to decide what to say. Izaya sidled behind her and peered over her shoulder at what she was typing._

_"Hm?"_

_Sheepishly, she finished the sentence. It was a stupid ending. Izaya laughed out loud._

_"Are you sure about that?"_

Celty sees fresh panic flash across his expression and understands that Izaya unmistakably just screwed up.

And then she knows what her options had been. Would she get nervous and take pity on Izaya, or would she keep her word and prove she wouldn’t let him off the lead regardless of what he did to himself? It was a multiple-choice test, and neither answer was right. He could ridicule her for her attempts at empathy, for her misplaced effort to appear human through an abundance of caution; or for her unfeeling lack of it.

Or, at least, he could have, had he not lost his composure and forfeited too soon.

For a second, Celty questions herself, trying to remember whether there was some condition he had to fulfill. Did it have to be combined with an explicit command, as in "Celty, remove this lead, please"? Did he have to phrase it politely? Izaya undoubtedly wonders the same thing - and whether he should hope she didn't catch it, pretend he said it on purpose, or repeat it. They both realize, and know the other has realized, that by all rights, the bet is over and all the restraints that Celty has put on Izaya should be removed. It's not too late. He could even mostly make it to the dark edge of the parking lot, if not inside.

But something about looking down on Izaya, in disbelief that he just misspoke, that things didn't go the way he predicted and it was his own fault, is such a rare and novel sight that Celty does nothing at all.

His expression changes to resignation, his posture softens, he places a pocketed hand on the seat and his feet far apart. "I'm impressed, Celty," he says acidically. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

Urine begins to fall to the pavement between his feet in a messy splatter as the fabric of his jeans becomes so saturated that the liquid flows directly through it.

"That you know how to be petty, impulsive... vindictive..." he says between panting breaths. "All those things that make life interesting. A skill set like that, and you've been wasting your time trying to prove how well you understand what it means to be human by being nice?" It must feel massively, overwhelmingly better to no longer be holding in the downpour coming out of him, that much is obvious from his gradually slowing breathing and splayed posture, but his tone is biting and bitter.

Maybe Celty should feel guilty. The only guilt she feels is that her guilt is disappearing. In a way, it's none of her business if Izaya wants to do ridiculous experiments on her. If anything, it brings her relief that she was lucky enough for him to make a fool of himself on his own. And if that’s what gloating about that makes her... Another puddle pools around his left shoe, meets with the larger one, expanding and glittering in the lights of the convenience store, and trickles across the subtle slope of the pavement. Celty steps onto the curb to avoid it.

"There I was, all worried I'd given you an easy out... and you just took the low road anyway. That's hysterical."

Eventually, he pushes himself upright, steps backward out of his puddle, and sighs, exhausted and cringing. Celty suddenly snaps out of it - the agreement is very over, beyond over - and dissolves the lead between them. Realizing he can take his hands out of his pockets, then looking at his wrist to see that it's gone, Izaya cracks up laughing deliriously and raises his palm to his forehead.

<Are you okay? You're not sick or injured, are you?> Celty asks him.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Physically, I'm _fantastic_." He leans to his right and shakes his left leg, looking down at his soaked jeans and soggy shoe. "This, on the other hand... doesn't feel great, in more ways than one. Are you still willing to give me a ride home?"

<I might as well.>

Izaya is calm for the rest of the drive home. Celty doesn't have a sense of smell, and earthly matter doesn't stick to Shooter or the shadowy material of her clothing anyway, so she's not concerned about the cleanliness aspect of letting him ride behind her. She feels as if she's spilled something more abstract on herself, though. Will Shinra be able to see it when she gets home and he asks her how work was? Rationally, he shouldn't - it's not unusually late for her, and it was an uneventful evening on the job if she leaves out the detail that she was carrying Izaya around - but this still isn't a stain that will wash off easily in the shower.

She finally lets Izaya off by his apartment. He stalls for a few seconds in thought, shivering and standing drawn into his coat for a different reason now since the wind mostly dried his clothes during the drive.

"I think it would be in both of our interest if we didn't talk about this," he says with finality.

Celty nods once firmly in agreement, then turns her gaze back to the road and takes off at full speed now that she's not restricted by having a human passenger to keep safe.


End file.
